


It gives a lovely light

by EliotRosewater



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Family, Firebending & Firebenders, Gen, Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, Iroh (Avatar) loves Tea, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Past Child Abuse, Pre-Season/Series 01, Rehabilitation, Uncle-Nephew Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:40:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24433705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EliotRosewater/pseuds/EliotRosewater
Summary: Some time after the Agni Kai with his father, Zuko wanted to start firebending again. Iroh didn't think he's ready.
Relationships: Iroh & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 367





	It gives a lovely light

The seas were temperamental, alternatively gently rocking the _Wani_ and violently tossing her. It made the shadows casted by the candles and sconces jump. Iroh had to be conscious of his hand, make sure it was as steady as he could make it.

"Notweed," Zuko finally said.

"Correct," Iroh said. He set down the tile and selected the next one.

Zuko squinted at the tile. His unblemished eye was covered with a patch, forcing him to identify Iroh's pai sho tiles with the eye that had been burned. He could almost get through the entire set without mistakes or needing breaks. But tonight, at this moment, the ship dropped on a wave, the light swooped, and Zuko grunted in frustration.

"Forget it. This is stupid!" The burned eye pinched closed, and Zuko dropped his head into his hands. Iroh watched his nephew's fingers knead circles into his temples.

Lowering the lily tile, Iroh put a warm hand on Zuko's shoulder and ignored his nephew's muscles drawing tight at the touch. "I am sure it is just the light."

"It's not the light! Can't you just face it? My sight is damaged." He didn't stop massaging his temples.

Iroh disagreed. His nephew's ability to see out of the scarred side was just as good as the other. So much time had passed with it covered, unused. Restoring his sight would not take a miracle; it was a matter of conditioning.

"Prince Zuko, it is OK to be frustrated with your recovery. This is not as simple as treating a broken bone or a case of sunset fever." Iroh removed his hand when Zuko shook him off. "Your eyes are like any other muscle. You must practice and train your body before it will do what you require of it. And that takes _time_."

Tension did not ease out of Zuko's shoulders like Iroh had hoped.

There was much venom in his voice when Zuko said, "Thank Agni that I've got plenty of _that_." He lifted his head at last. "This is as good as it's going to get, Uncle. We both know it."

Iroh obviously didn't agree, but he chose not to fight this point. After all this time at sea, he knew too well that his nephew would fight _every_ point if you let him.

"Perhaps it is time for a rest," Iroh said.

_Doooom —_ a crash from somewhere below their quarters.

Zuko leapt to his feet and assumed a defensive stance. Then echoing laughter reached them.

Iroh reminded himself not to reach for Zuko. Hands steady on his crossed legs, he said, "It is just the crew in the mess, Prince Zuko."

"What have those drunks broken now?" Zuko growled. "It took two weeks to fix this rust bucket of a ship last time they were trashed! I won't keep suffering delays!"

"I'm sure all is well," Iroh said. He closed the lid on the box which held his pai sho set. "They are just having a nice night."

Another crash. Zuko's hands balled into smoking fists. He took a step toward the door, but then the ship jumped. Zuko was knocked off his feet. He slid a few feet on his side. A beat later more laughter, _louder_ , reached them.

_Bad timing_ , Iroh thought.

His nephew surged to his feet with another frustrated growl. More smoke. Iroh could practically see the tension growing in Zuko's body, like he was being drawn on the rack. Any second, he anticipated the snap.

" _I hate this_ ," Zuko shouted while screwing his feet into the decorative rug Iroh had picked up last time they went to port. Fire sparked and followed the toe of Zuko's boot. Reflexes quick as a puma-cat, he pulled his foot away and pivoted back.

"My rug," Iroh said.

"Sorry, Uncle."

Iroh got up and pretended to be interested in the singed section of the rug while the tension dissipated. "That's alright, Prince Zuko. It is just a rug. Anything can be mended if one has the _patience_ and _time._ "

Zuko groaned.

"Come, nephew, let us have some tea and check the maps. Perhaps we can find a port with sturdy thread to mend this."

* * *

"Jasmine."

"Yes." A new tile.

A drawn pause. "Rose?"

Iroh was still. "No. The white lotus."

Zuko's face contorted. "I don't want to do this anymore."

"Look how much better you have already become."

They were sat eight feet away from each other and the sun was nearly gone beyond the western horizon, bathing Iroh's quarters in long shadows.

"It's a waste of time. Seeing pai sho tiles in the dark isn't going to help me capture the Avatar." Zuko threw the patch over his unburned eye away.

"The future can be a funny thing, Prince Zuko." This was not, after all, about pai sho. "Besides, that was the only tile you missed! In these conditions, even _I_ wouldn't be able to see which tiles are being held up!"

Zuko did not accept the praise for what is was: "Then why are we still wasting time doing this? I need to do something useful."

Iroh shut away his tiles in their careful box. "What would you suggest?"

There was an obvious answer. Iroh waited to see if Zuko would say it this time. It took a very pregnant pause for him to do it: "I want to firebend again. For real."

Iroh got to his feet and brought his pai sho box to its place on the shelf. He took his time setting it square to the ledge. Pulling up his favourite teapot, Iroh lit a flame with a snap of his fingers and then went in pursuit of the right kind of tea for this moment. His hands searched among his vast collection, eventually plucking out valerian root. Turning around to face his nephew, he said, "You believe you are ready to firebend again? You can feel your energy flowing freely through your body? There is no turbulence within you?"

"I'm ready, Uncle."

It wasn't true. Since the day Zuko was born, he struggled and was filled with turmoil. He had never _not_ felt turbulence.

"Firebending requires absolute control. There can be no hesitation when handling fire. Fire is energy. It is life. To bend it, you must be deliberate and confident. Life will not bend to the will of fear."

"I'm not afraid."

Iroh flicked his wrist and an ember was casted in Zuko's general direction. The banished prince flinched. Hard. Shame, irritation, and humiliation fought for dominance in Zuko's his expression.

"It is too soon," Iroh said.

"No!" Zuko stared intently into his hands. "I'm not afraid, Uncle!"

It didn't sound angry. It sounded like a plea.

A weighty silence nestled between them. The tea was ready. Iroh approached his nephew with two teacups and sat beside him, facing his red dragon candelabrum on its altar. He offered a cup, relieved when it was accepted.

A sip before starting: "Prince Zuko, it is too soon. You are not confident around the flame. Your heart resists the flow of energy within you. It knows the pain that fire can bring. To attempt bending at the level you desire would destroy you inside."

It brought Iroh no pleasure to say these things, especially since he could see the way each word crushed his nephew. But the sight was nothing compared to how he would feel if Zuko attempted to bend and all that heat got dammed up inside him.

Zuko's head hung, steam from the tea condensing on his face. "Everything about my life is different, except that I still fail at everything. I know I wasn't a good firebender, but at least I _could_ bend. Now even that's been taken from me. I know things will never be the same, but…Why can't I have this one thing back? I've lost my family, my title, my home, my _sight_ , and my bending. It's too much, Uncle. I have nothing. I am nothing."

Iroh stayed calm; each breath expanding his chest was rhythmic, waiting for a resurgence of Zuko's anger. The fact was that Zuko wasn't a bad bender at all! Before the Agni Kai, he had been quite good when he was compared to his peers. It only seemed that he struggled so much because he was constantly pitted against his sister. No way around it, Azula was a prodigy. Perhaps the best of her age in the history of the Fire Nation. Anyone's flame would look like a limp candle beside her.

Once it had gotten into Zuko's head that Azula was better than him, he became insecure. It only worsened when Lady Ursa disappeared. Iroh hadn't seen much of his nephew's bending before they'd lost Ursa, but all the master firebenders the palace employed as teachers had said as much. (Not that Ozai would listen to them.) It wasn't ability that Zuko lacked; it was confidence. A fire would not be controlled by someone who anticipated failure every time they summoned it.

No burst of anger or frustration was forthcoming now. It was safe to act: Iroh took another sip of his tea and then shifted until he could take a steady hold of Zuko's shoulders. His nephew offered no resistance as Iroh positioned him squarely in front of the candelabrum.

"You are not nothing, Prince Zuko. You have an uncle who loves you. You have the _Wani_ and a hardworking crew. You have impressive eyesight! And you still have your bending, my nephew. It's simply in turmoil. It is possible to fix this."

Zuko wouldn't lift his gaze, perhaps unwilling to let his hopes rise too fast, but he lifted the teacup to his lips. "You said yourself I'm too much of a coward to control fire."

Iroh let his chest rumble softly with laughter. "I didn't say that."

His nephew met his eyes.

"I still think it is too soon for you to resume firebending," Iroh said. "But if you insist that you're ready, I think we can begin correcting the flow of energy within you."

"Really, Uncle?"

Iroh nodded. "But you must understand this one thing, my nephew, if I am to help you. You must believe what I am about to say completely and never question it."

"What is it?" He'd shifted to look at Iroh squarely. There was wariness in Zuko's gaze now. He was used to dealing with his sister and the strings attached to her offers.

"You must believe beyond the shadow of _any_ doubt that I will never do anything to hurt you, be it firebending or anything else. The purpose of my actions will never be to bring harm or suffering to you."

Zuko's head dropped again.

Iroh added, "If we have just had a terrible argument, or if we have suffered great defeat, or if we are ever separated, or if you have banished me from your ship for playing too much pai sho. Under no circumstances will I ever do anything that brings you to harm."

Several heartbeats passed while Zuko fought to maintain a grip on himself. Perhaps he honestly needed to think about what he had just been told. Ultimately, he set down the teacup, took up his position before the candelabrum, and closed his eyes.

Iroh reached forward and ignited a single candle on the red dragon. With the sun now gone beyond the edge of the sea, this was the only light. "Have no fear of any flame I produce, my nephew."

Zuko stayed still before the shifting flame. He breathed in.

* * *

As days went by, Iroh lit more and more of the red dragon candelabrum's candles. Zuko had locked his gaze on the second candle the first day Iroh introduced it, spine rigidly straight. Resting his hands gently over his knees, Iroh peeked at his nephew out of the corner of his eye. Zuko's jaw worked for a moment before his eyes closed and he breathed in deeply. Gradually his spine relaxed into a more natural posture and the wobbly candle flames stretched and flexed rhythmically.

And they continued this every evening and morning, bookending the rest Iroh new his nephew so badly needed. The candelabrum slowly populated with fire until the every candle was alight and the room was perfumed with Iroh fire-scent. He had been a bit apprehensive about the fire-scent. It is hard for a firebender to detect their own, though smelling another bender's fire-scent could sometimes feel like getting whacked in the nose with a mud fisherman's day-old swinefish.

The last fire-scent Zuko smelled was likely Ozai's. Blood relatives usually had similar scents; Iroh prayed to Agni that his own fire didn't smell too similar to his brother's. That was the last thing he wanted to do: coop up his traumatised nephew in a room that smelt like burning flesh. (Iroh hadn't decided that that was what Ozai's fire-scent was until after Iroh'd returned from war.)

(Azula smelled like a storm.)

But Zuko didn't react — not outwardly — to the rising scent of Iroh's fire. Perhaps the tea Iroh kept on hand helped dilute the smell. Or perhaps, if it did not cover the fire-scent, the calming properties of it made it easier for his nephew to stomach the smell.

The issue was eliminated before Iroh lost his nerve and asked about it. He decided that the time had come for Zuko to light a candle himself. After several weeks of playing with Iroh's fire, he became confident that his nephew did not fear it. Zuko's own fire might be a source of anxiety, though.

"Do you feel any apprehension?" Iroh asked over the unlit candelabrum and more valerian root tea. "Does the thought of fire disrupt the flow of energy through you?"

"No."

Iroh believed it this time. He gestured to the candelabrum.

Zuko let out a long breath while settling himself before the candles. Tension stirred in his shoulders almost immediately. Iroh was bracing for the worst while Zuko kept breathing, eyes open. He didn't attempt to bend, just let his chest rise and fall. There wasn't a good rhythm.

"It is only us, Prince Zuko," Iroh said lowly.

His chin jerked once, and he reset his breath with more regularity. He reached a hand forward, pinching the wick of the central candle with two fingers. Deliberately loosened his shoulders and eased the iron out of his spine. Measured breath into the stomach. Brief pause. Send it back out.

A jolly little flame sprouted from the candle's wick. It smelled like spices and wet-wood smoke.

* * *

Some days later Iroh watched his nephew's hands deftly cut and sew and weave a new section of fabric into the decorative rug, a patch over his good eye.

**Author's Note:**

> Zuko was drilling "basic firebending" in the beginning of S01. I don't believe he sucked at bending so much that he never progressed through the foundational basics. So here I am saying he basically started over due to fear and complete collapse of confidence.


End file.
